


Breakfast

by thegirlwiththemouseyhair



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Cooking, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwiththemouseyhair/pseuds/thegirlwiththemouseyhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Silly, cheery modern AU fluff written to cheer up a dear friend. <3</p>
    </blockquote>





	Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daredevilmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredevilmoon/gifts).



> Silly, cheery modern AU fluff written to cheer up a dear friend. <3

Philip’s attempts at tea or dinner or anything else were always rubbish. Thomas wasn’t much of a cook, either, but they couldn’t have takeaway for breakfast, lunch, supper, and snacks, and Philip had more opportunities to work from home than Thomas did. His business had never taken off – privately, Thomas blamed the posh upbringing that had prevented Philip from fending for himself until recently – but he _did_ set his own hours, and used the freedom to play at caring for Thomas.

“I made it strong, since you’ve a long day today,” Philip said, like someone’s mum, as Thomas stepped into the tiny kitchen and blinked. He’d snoozed his alarm as many times as he dared that morning, dreading the day ahead, and surprised to find that Philip’s half of the bed was empty. Then he remembered. Philip had had to take an early call. Thomas beamed at him.

“Thanks,” he yawned.

He took the mug from Philip, then turned away toward the window and took a sip. It was his habit – his way of hiding the grimace at the taste that filled his mouth and dried the top of his tongue. _How can you ruin tea_? he thought, replaying the complaint he’d made so often in his head. _Smug, posh bastard._ He stifled a grin and added, _Still, at least it’s strong. Next time don’t leave the bag in for an hour long call to your supplier in Germany._

“Toast?” Philip asked.

Thomas couldn’t help it, now. He giggled into his cup.

“No, thanks – I’d best be off.”

“What’s so funny?” Philip asked, drawing closer and kissing the back of Thomas’s head. Thomas cleared his throat.

“Nothing – it’s nice of you to do all this,” Thomas said, downing the last of his tea as if it were a shot of something burning and bitter. _Well, actually, it_ is.  

“You should have some breakfast,” Philip insisted. It was _adorable_. Thomas had been surprised at how domestic he could be, when they moved in together. Philip wasn’t just hot and clever and quick and rich (well, he _had_ been rich, and he still had all the right mannerisms and as much charm as anyone could ask for): he was also damn cute. Thomas got to see more and more of that, now that they were sharing a flat.

“Don’t fuss,” Thomas teased. “You’ve done enough, and I’m grateful, but there’s, um, this bake sale at the office and some of the women make such a fuss if you don’t support it. It’s just easier to go in hungry rather than eat twice.”

Philip rolled his eyes before kissing him again.

“Well, all right. We can’t have you looking like that Mrs. Patmore you introduced me to at the Christmas party.”

“Oi, take care,” Thomas said, mock serious, before snickering again. As it happened, he would have _liked_ an office bake sale, because his day of meetings seemed endless and old Patmore’s brownies were as divine as Philip’s tea was disgusting. But there was no sense getting into all that now.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Thomas said, replacing the mug on the counter and grabbing his jacket.

“Cheers,” Philip added with a wave. He was oblivious still. Thomas wondered if he should tell him he couldn’t cook worth a damn and even ruined tea on a daily basis, or whether he should simply suggest that they take breakfast out more often.


End file.
